Silence and growth

"It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just got out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others - a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive." C.S.Lewis - The Magician's Nephew

Sometimes breaking silence is useful even if you have nothing to say. If only because saying something gives a basis for new thoughts to crystallise upon.

Reflecting on my last post I realise that it is not so much the quality of the silence which is different, but the emotional state I am in as I experience it. This may be so obvious that it hardly needs stating, but I found it a helpful thought. Why? Because my emotional state is only part of the equation. God's view of the silence may be completely different.

Occasionally I am asked to preach. Initially I used to worry about this. Now I find I quite enjoy it. Not least because I am sure that I learn far more from it than I am able to pass on. The last time I preached I was given a free topic, and I chose the life of Abraham. In preparing, I found myself wondering how Abraham coped with the silence. From God's initial call to the fulfillment of the promise he waited twenty-five years. And if the bible records every conversation God had with him, for the majority of those years God was silent.

The next line of the Pink Floyd quotation I used in my last blog is "of promises broken". If the story of Abraham teaches anything it is that God keeps his promises. Just because God was silent it didn't mean he was not active, or that Abraham was not growing.

The stature of waiting

"My soul is waiting for the lord
and in his name I trust,
more than a watchman for the morning,
more than a watchman for the dawn.
More than this my soul is waiting,
waiting for the lord" Adrian Snell - Out of the deep (Ps 130)

Reflecting on what I wrote the other day about being in the middle state between "To be and not to be" I recalled to mind some words of Henri Nouwen. He has quite a lot to say about waiting:

Waiting is active. Most of us think of waiting as something very passive, a hopeless state determined by events totally out of our hands. The bus is late? You cannot do anything about it, so you have to sit and wait.

But there is none of this passivity in scripture. Those who wait are waiting very actively. They know that what they are waiting for is growing from the ground on which they are standing. That's the secret. The secret of waiting is the faith that the seed has been planted, that something has begun. Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment in the conviction that something is happening where you are...

It brought to mind the title of a book I've seen on my mother's bookshelf. The Stature of Waiting (W H Vanstone). This morning as I was reading some more from Nouwen I find him quoting that very book. Perhaps I need to borrow that one as well!

As I reflected further the following came to mind: "I know not that for which I trust, but I know him in whom I trust". It sounds like a mangled quotation - but if it is I cannot find who said it. It does, however, sum up where I find myself.

To be or not to be

"'Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees,' said Lucy (though she had not been intending to speak at all). 'Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake. Don't you remember it? Don't you remember me? Dryads and Hamadryads, come out, come to me.'

Though there was not a breath of wind they all stirred about her. The rustling noise of the leaves was almost like words. The nightingale stopped singing as if to listen to it.

Lucy felt that at any moment she would begin to understand what the trees were trying to say. But the moment did not come. The rustling died away. The nightingale resumed its song. Even in the moonlight the wood looked more ordinary again. Yet Lucy had the feeling (as you sometimes have when you are trying to remember a name or a date and almost get it, but it vanishes before you really do) that she had just missed something: as if she had spoken to the trees a split second too soon or a split second too late, or used all the right words except one, or put in one word that was just wrong." CS Lewis - Prince Caspian

It feels like I've been handed some promises; that things are waiting in the wings to change, happen and breakthrough in my life. Yet they never quite seem to. I am not sure if this is because the time is not quite right, or there is something that I need to do to kick them in to touch. I'm wondering if the problem is that I'm looking for a code? Some secret form of words that unlocks God's plan. That tells me what I want to know and gets me to where I want to be.

Every time I enquire or push the answer seems to be the same. It is not my place to be making the big plans. I need to be be faithful in small things and the rest will fall into place. "Live the good that you know and leave the rest up to me". But this feels wrong to me. So passive.

There are questions which I don't have the answer to which I cannot seem to escape from. There are places where my choices are not clear - contradictory paths neither of which has the monopoly on rightness or goodness, but which cannot both be taken.

One of these at least finds me oscilating. Not doing enough in either direction to make any difference - but with no clear guidance as to what I should choose. The echo of my own heart and reflection tells me the more difficult path is right - but will not lead where I want to go. Set against it the guidance of my friends who tell me the path is closed. So I am left with an internal debate. Is it a case of the foolisness of path one against the wisdom of path two (where foolishness is God's path) or the dead past of path one against the living future of path two (where the future is God's path)?

Hamlet's words seem profound at this point. To be, or not to be? That is indeed the question! Yet the middle state of neither being or not being seems to be the hardest place of all.